


My First Love(s)

by jasminesighs (itanejiluver)



Category: EXO (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:45:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itanejiluver/pseuds/jasminesighs
Summary: Yifan was gangly and awkward. Lord Jiaheng was confident and bold. How could two men with such similar features be so different?





	My First Love(s)

**My First Love(s)**

Junmyeon shivered and pulled his coat tighter around his body. Summer had ended and the chilly winds of autumn were tugging at his collar and nipping at his wrists. Junmyeon silently wished that he’d remembered to bring his scarf along with him today—but it was too late now anyways. He was nearly at the marketplace.

His hand tightened around his basket and he wove through the busy stalls, letting the noise of haggling villagers and irritated storekeepers wash over him. His cousin always kept her stall smack dab in the center of the market, and while it made for good business for her, it was always a hassle for Junmyeon to get to without crushing his precious merchandise.

Junmyeon flailed about, lifting his basket over the heads of running children at one second, and then ducking low to avoid another woman carrying her own basket full of purchases. Finally, nearly out of breath, and his arms a little sore from all of his maneuvering, Junmyeon stumbled to a halt in front of the florist stand.

“Junmyeon!” Irene beamed at him and got to her feet, reaching for his flower basket. “Thanks for getting these for me.”

Junmyeon braced his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Irene was always like this—only focused on her flowers. “I can see why your last delivery boy quit,” he grumbled at her.

“I said thanks,” Irene said, pouting, and Junmyeon softened right away.

“I was just teasing.” He reached out and tugged one of her braids. “Are these the right ones?”

“Yes!” Irene beamed and began arranging Junmyeon’s delivery into the various bouquets hanging off of her stall. “You always get me just what I need.”

Junmyeon smiled. “You always tell me what to get.”

“Yeah, but everyone else always gets it wrong.” Irene rolled her eyes. “They wouldn’t know the difference between a snowdrop and a sunflower.”

Junmyeon just shook his head. “Sales are going well today?”

“Yeah.” Irene smiled. “It’s almost time for the Autumn Eve Festival. Everyone is buying flowers to decorate their homes. Things will get even busier the day before families will go to clean the graves.”

“I can imagine.” Junmyeon smiled. “Just come find me if you need help with the stall.”

“I will.” Irene blew him a kiss. “I don’t need help now though.” She glanced to her right, and Junmyeon saw Irene’s younger sister, Yeri, lurking at the edge of his vision.

“Alright.” Junmyeon stuffed his hands into his pockets. He could tell Irene wanted to be alone with Yeri for whatever reason. “I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner.”

“Bye!” Irene smiled brightly and waved him off, and Junmyeon turned back around into the chaos of the market. Junmyeon headed off towards the herbalist stands, intending to get some tea for his mother. Even though she’d been slowly recovering from the terrible cold she’d picked up during the summer, she was still weak, and could barely handle solid food. The town doctor came by to see her every day, and Junmyeon had spent a lot of money at the herbalists’ stands in the past month trying to find a tea that would soothe her cough.

Junmyeon froze when he saw a tall, lanky figure standing in the middle of the road. His back was turned, but Junmyeon would know that figure anywhere.

Yifan moved to turn around, and Junmyeon dove off of the side of the road to hide behind a hanging bolt of cloth in a merchant’s tent. Yifan hadn’t even seen him, but Junmyeon could feel his cheeks already heating up.

“Junmyeon?” The merchant’s son, Kyungsoo, looked at him curiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Um.” Junmyeon blinked. “Just—just browsing! If that’s okay?”

Kyungsoo sighed and poked his head out of the stall. He turned back and gave Junmyeon a deadpan look.

“What?” Junmyeon squeaked.

“Yeah, you can look,” Kyungsoo said heavily. “Do whatever you want.” He sat back down on his stool and went back to sewing the black cloak on the bench in front of him.

Junmyeon glanced nervously at the street. Since he was hiding behind a hanging cloth, he couldn’t see if Yifan was coming this way or not. Junmyeon nervously turned to the wide array of fabrics spread out across the rack in front of him, and tentatively reached out for a soft white cotton died with a red leaf pattern.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and Junmyeon flinched.

“That’s a nice pattern.” Yifan smiled down at him, and Junmyeon nearly fainted. “Are you thinking about buying it?”

Junmyeon opened his mouth and let out a garbled noise. Kyungsoo let out a heavy sigh in the background.

Yifan laughed. “Are you okay? Is Irene overworking you as her errand boy?”

Junmyeon pulled himself together. “No!” he blurted. “Uh…yeah. I’m fine.”

“So, were you thinking about buying that?” Yifan tilted his head toward the fabric in question.

Junmyeon quickly let go of it, his face turning red. “Uh…no. I don’t um—don’t really have much money to spare right now,” he mumbled. Then his brain processed the sentence, and Junmyeon wanted to die from embarrassment. He’d been talking to Yifan for less than two seconds and had already bared his problems to him. What was he doing?

“Oh.” Yifan looked concerned. “Is…is your mother feeling any better?”

Junmyeon blinked. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“The doctor’s fee must be a heavy burden.” Yifan frowned. Junmyeon suddenly became very aware of the fact that Yifan’s hand was still on his shoulder. “You have to tell me if there’s anything I can do to help. Anything at all.”

Junmyeon actively tried not to swoon. “My father and I are managing just fine. But I’ll be sure to let you know if something comes up,” Junmyeon mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Yifan squeezed his shoulder and let go. “I think this fabric would look really nice on you.”

Junmyeon was so floored, all he could do was stare as Yifan brushed past him to inspect the bolt of cloth. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Yifan peered over the top of the rack at Kyungsoo. “How much would a yard of this be?”

Junmyeon kept staring as Yifan paid for the cloth, and then handed it to him. “Here.”

“Huh?” Junmyeon automatically accepted the folded square of soft cotton. He resisted the urge to rub it against his cheek—the cloth was so soft it felt like water in his palm.

“Consider it to be an Autumn Festival gift.” Yifan smiled down at him.

“Oh!” Junmyeon brought the cloth close to his chest and smiled. “Thank you! I don’t have anything for you yet…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yifan said easily. Someone called Yifan’s name outside, and Yifan stiffened, and then sighed. “Sounds like I have to go. Take care of yourself, okay Junmyeon?”

“Okay.” Junmyeon waited until Yifan had left the tent before burying his face in the folded cotton with a dreamy sigh.

“You two are disgusting,” Kyungsoo announced, and Junmyeon jumped.

“S-sorry.” Junmyeon stuttered and tried to collect himself. “I’m done looking. See you later, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo raised a hand in farewell, and Junmyeon left the tent to head to the herbalist stalls. There were three of them, each headed by a different old woman. He tried to calm the blush on his cheeks as he walked, and he cringed internally when he realized that Kyungsoo had witnessed his entire interaction with Yifan.

Junmyeon ended up buying an herbal tea with cinnamon, anise and nutmeg for his mother, and then headed back home. His father was back already, and he nodded to Junmyeon as Junmyeon entered the house.

“I got some tea for mom.” Junmyeon pulled the tea out of his bag and set it down on their small wooden table. The soft red and white cotton fell out of his bag as well, and his father narrowed his eyes.

“Where’s that from?”

“I didn’t buy it! It was a gift from my friend,” Junmyeon said defensively.

“Which friend?” His father still looked suspicious.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon muttered. “He gave it to me as a festival gift.”

“Don’t friends normally give fruits as a festival gift?”

Junmyeon shrugged. “Yifan is kind of weird,” he said. “I’m gonna go talk to mom.”

Junmyeon’s father sighed and let him leave the room. Junmyeon sat with his mother for the next hour or so, just watching her rest. She tossed and turned anxiously, and Junmyeon placed a wet cloth on her forehead and tucked her sheets in around her to try and soothe her.

Night fell outside, and the only light in the room came from the candle Junmyeon had lit. He felt himself dozing off by his mother’s bedside when his father came into the room. Junmyeon wordlessly left the bedside chair as his father gently coaxed his wife away and fed her a bowl of clear broth. They helped her to rinse her mouth with cool water, and then settled her back into the bed to rest.

Junmyeon followed his father to the kitchen.

“Doctor Kim will come by tomorrow,” his father said quietly, putting the bowl down in their sink. “In the morning.”

“Alright.” Junmyeon yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Will we go to the cemetery afterwards?”

“Yes. Be sure to pack all of the food we need for the ritual prayers tomorrow.”

“I will.” Junmyeon smiled fondly at his father. “Good night.”

Junmyeon left the kitchen and went to his room. He took the cloth Yifan had given him today, and held it up to the light of the lantern he had. The cloth was long—maybe he could hem the edges, and turn it into a scarf. Junmyeon pulled out his needle and thread and set to work, wincing when he poked his fingers every so often. He often mended his own clothes, and it didn’t take him long to finish the scarf. Exhausted from his day, Junmyeon blew out the flame, and went to sleep.

 

 

 

 

The next morning, Junmyeon packed a picnic basket while Doctor Kim checked in on his mother. Just as Junmyeon finished packing, Doctor Kim and his father emerged from the room. Doctor Kim didn’t look overly concerned, and Junmyeon felt a small beat of relief. At the very least, his mother wasn’t getting any worse.

“Your father showed me the tea you bought. Try giving her some, and let me know how if it affects her cough when I come again.”

“Yes Doctor Kim.” Junmyeon picked up the basket and followed his father and Doctor Kim outside. They walked back into town, Junmyeon and his father turning away from the city to head to the cemetery, while Doctor Kim went off to his next house call.

It was early in the morning, and only a few other families were present in the cemetery. Junmyeon and his father had cleared the weeds from around the grave with the rest of their family two days ago. Junmyeon smiled slightly when he saw the beautiful flower arrangement resting at each ancestral grave—Irene had slaved over them for hours.

Junmyeon didn’t know why, but his father always performed the bows and feast separately from his aunt and uncle. Junmyeon supposed that it was a personal choice, and he’d never asked about it, but sometimes, he wondered. His mother would probably tell him—perhaps he would ask her when she recovered more of her strength.

They assembled the food, and then bowed their heads in prayer for several minutes. Junmyeon’s father raised his head eventually, and whispered a quiet prayer. Junmyeon stayed silent, and eventually, Junmyeon’s father got to his feet. Together, they completed the ritual bows, and then turned to the food.

Even though Junmyeon didn’t speak much with his father, he didn’t feel distant from him. Junmyeon always had a good intuition about how his father was feeling, even if he didn’t say much.

When they were done eating, they packed up their basket and cleaned the graves one last time before leaving the cemetery. They headed back home, and Junmyeon dropped by his mother’s room. She was awake, and was propped up on her pillows, a book in hand.

“Junmyeonnie,” she whispered. Junmyeon knelt down by her bedside and took her hand.

“How was Doctor Kim’s checkup?” he asked gently.

“I feel a little better every time he comes by.” Junmyeon’s mother smiled. “That’s a good man, there.”

“He’s been very kind to us,” Junmyeon agreed.

“Junmyeon, you’ve grown so much.” Junmyeon’s mother peered at his face. “How old are you now? Twenty?”

“Twenty-two,” Junmyeon corrected her.

Junmyeon’s mother smiled at that. “You’ve grown,” she repeated. “How long will you keep living at home, taking care of us here?”

“As long as I need to,” Junmyeon said slowly, unsure where she was trying to go with the conversation. “You know that.”

“You’re growing,” she repeated insistently. “You must have some young man or woman you’re interested in marrying these days.”

Junmyeon’s eyes widened, and his mind instantly flitted to Yifan. “Do you want me to leave home so badly?” he asked jokingly, instead of voicing his thoughts.

“No, no. But you will leave us eventually. It is inevitable.” Junmyeon’s mother’s eyes misted over with tears, and Junmyeon handed her handkerchief.

His mother was seriously sending him some mixed signals. “Yes, but I won’t leave for a while. Dad and I will take care of you together,” Junmyeon said firmly.

“Yes, but I will get better eventually,” Junmyeon’s mother said with conviction. “Then your father and I can manage. And then what will you do?”

“When you get better, then I’ll start thinking about moving away. I won’t do anything until then,” Junmyeon said gently. “Don’t worry, Ma. Don’t I always find a way to take care of myself?”

“I suppose so.” She smiled at him, and handed him her book. “Do you have a little time to read to me?”

“Of course.” Junmyeon opened her book to the marker and began to read. After half an hour or so, she dozed off again, and Junmyeon quietly left the room.

“I’m going to town to check on Irene,” Junmyeon called out. His father grunted, and Junmyeon left the house, carefully tucking his knew white and red scarf around his neck. Most families took this day off work to perform the ceremonial feast at the cemetery, but many people would be buying more flowers to place on graves or give to friends and family, so Irene usually worked until the early afternoon.

Junmyeon found her set up a respectful distance from the cemetery with the other town florist, Sunny. Junmyeon nodded respectfully to her and turned to Irene.

“How’re things going?”

“Everything’s fine. I made sure to pick more flowers today, so I don’t think I need you to make any emergency trips.” Irene smiled, and Junmyeon smiled back.

“That’s good.” He went behind the stall to sit with her on her bench. “Where are Aunt and Uncle?”

“They’re already inside the cemetery. I’ll go join them for the bows and feast in a couple of hours.”

“That’s good.” Junmyeon hummed and stared out at the road. He could hear families chanting prayers and milling around in the cemetery behind him. Ahead of them, a few families dotted the road, coming to pay their respects to their ancestors.

Junmyeon opened his mouth to say something, when in the distance, he spotted a figure on horseback.

“Do you see that?” Irene asked.

“I do,” Junmyeon said slowly. But who would be coming in on horseback? The cemetery was close enough to town so that no family would feel the need to ride all the way here. Maybe it was a distant relative coming to pay respects?

Junmyeon’s eyes widened as the figure came closer and closer into view. He was a tall man, wearing a regal cape and fine leather riding gloves and leather boots. He had a solemn, black broad-brimmed hat on, and his horse had a rich, brown hide dappled with white.

“Who do you think that is?” Junmyeon asked, his eyes wide with interest as the man slowed his horse down to a steady walk as he approached the cemetery.

“I don’t know,” Irene said thoughtfully. “He looks like a prince.”

Junmyeon snorted, but didn’t say anything. Irene had a point—his clothes were clearly expensive and well-made, he had a nice horse, and as he drew closer, it was obvious that this man was very, very handsome.

“That’s a nice scarf by the way,” Irene said suddenly.

“What?” Junmyeon looked down and saw her playing with the end of his cotton scarf. Junmyeon smiled and traced a red leaf with his finger. “It was a gift,” he said a little proudly.

“A gift?” Irene repeated. “From who?”

Junmyeon opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped when he noticed that the rich man had jumped off of his horse and was walking towards them. He twisted over and shot a questioning look at Sunny, who shook her head.

“Why is he coming over here?” Irene whispered worriedly.

“Maybe he wants to buy some of your flowers,” Junmyeon whispered. Junmyeon and Irene turned to stare at the approaching stranger. Junmyeon thought his face looked awfully similar to Yifan’s—but there was certainly something different. Yifan was tall like this man, but Yifan was awkward and lanky. This man walked with regal grace and confidence.

“Can we help you?” Irene asked kindly as the man strode up to the stall.

“Yes,” the man said, staring intensely at Junmyeon. Junmyeon felt his face turning red. “ _You_ can.”

Junmyeon blinked. “Irene runs this stall,” he said at last. “She would be far more helpful than I.”

“I see.” The man smiled, and seemed amused. “Irene.” He bowed gallantly to Irene, who blushed and smiled. “And you are?”

“I’m Junmyeon,” Junmyeon said softly.

“Junmyeon.” The stranger didn’t bow for him, but gave him another intense look. “Well. Irene—I’d like to buy a bouquet.”

“For the Festival rituals?” Irene asked, her hand halfway towards a bouquet of marigolds.

“No. Roses,” the man said firmly.

Junmyeon blinked. Was he visiting a deceased lover’s grave? Normally, marigolds were far more solemn and appropriate for honoring the dead.

Irene paused, and then handed the man her largest bouquet of red roses. He gave her a handful of gold coins, and ignored her protests that it was far too much.

“Keep it,” the man said carelessly. “And this, Junmyeon, is for you.”

Junmyeon stared at the bouquet of flowers being offered to him. He slowly looked up from the flowers to the man’s face.

“Thank you,” Junmyeon said slowly, unsure of what else to do. It would be rude to reject them, and he didn’t want to anger the stranger given that he’d just paid Irene so handsomely. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jiaheng, the oldest son of the Duke of the Firefly Forest.” Jiaheng puffed his chest out and folded his arms. “I think I want to marry you.”

Sunny had a sudden coughing fit, Irene let out a small shriek, and Junmyeon dropped the roses.

“What?” Junmyeon spluttered. “But—but we’ve just met!”

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” Jiaheng said doggedly. “If you don’t say yes now, I’ll just keep asking you.”

“I am not going to agree!” Junmyeon said, a little outraged. Who did Jiaheng think he was?

Jiaheng laughed, and Junmyeon felt Irene swooning beside him. Junmyeon felt a small flash of grudge that Irene was falling for Jiaheng’s charms, but then forgave her. Jiaheng really did have a handsome smile.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep visiting you to persuade you.” Jiaheng smiled and turned. “Have a nice day, Junmyeon. Irene.” He walked back to his horse, hopped up onto the saddle, and rode away.

Junmyeon, Sunny, and Irene stared after him in a daze.

“Do you really think he’ll come back?” Sunny eventually said.

“I hope not,” Junmyeon said after a moment, his thoughts flitting to Yifan. What would Yifan say if he heard about this incident? Would Yifan even care? Junmyeon wanted Yifan to care.

Irene hummed thoughtfully, and didn’t say anything. An hour later, Junmyeon helped her pack her things, and went into the cemetery with her to repeat the rituals with the rest of their family.

For the next week, Junmyeon was on edge. Would Prince Jiaheng really come back to the village for him? He quietly hoped not. As the days passed, Junmyeon began to relax—maybe Jiaheng had just been joking. Or maybe Jiaheng liked to play with people’s hearts, and he’d already moved on to his next conquest. Junmyeon was glad that he’d stood his ground.

Oddly enough, Junmyeon also hadn’t seen Yifan for the entire week. True, Yifan was often gone—he would usually come to the village twice a week, along with the farmer he worked for. However, the farmer had come, but there was no Yifan. Junmyeon was too shy to ask the man where Yifan was, so he quietly pined away instead.

 

 

 

The week passed, and Junmyeon paced listlessly back and forth in front of the house. Normally, he worked as a schoolteacher in thenext town over. He would stay there for the weekdays, and then return home to his parents on the weekends. However, since his mother had fallen ill, Junmyeon had taken leave to care for her while his father worked.

Junmyeon wondered if the school would really want him back when his mother recovered. It had already been two months. If they’d found a good replacement for him, then maybe they were thinking about hiring that teacher full time already.

Junmyeon sighed and kicked at the soil. He should head back in and make sure his mother was comfortable—it didn’t do to leave her alone for too long. He turned back to the house and put his hand on the door.

He paused when he heard the sound of a galloping horse off in the distance. He turned around, and blinked in surprise when he saw a familiar, gorgeous horse coming down the street.

He looked up from the horse to its rider, and his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he could’ve sworn that the rider was Yifan—but that was ridiculous. Yifan, being a poor villager like himself, would never be able to afford a horse like that. Besides, he already knew the owner of this horse.

Junmyeon made to duck inside his house, but Jiaheng was already calling out to him.

“Junmyeon!” Jiaheng gently reined his horse in and leapt off of the saddle. “I knew I would I see you again.”

“How did you find where I live?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly.

Jiaheng shook his head as he led his horse over to a tree and looped the reins around a branch. “Pure luck!” he said cheerfully. “I was riding into town today. I thought I might ask about you in the village square. Lucky for me, I saw you here.”

Junmyeon hovered on his doorstep. It would be undeniably rude to leave Jiaheng out in the front yard, but Junmyeon also wanted to check on his mother. “Would you like to come in?” Junmyeon asked after a small pause.

Jiaheng looked surprised. “Come in?” he repeated.

“You don’t have to,” Junmyeon said immediately. “Our home is very humble. It’s nothing very impressive. But if you don’t want to come in, would you mind waiting a moment? I just need to check inside for a minute.”

“I’d love to come in, if you don’t mind.” Jiaheng strode over, and Junmyeon opened the door. Junmyeon felt a little bit uneasy about welcoming a stranger into his home, but what else could he do?

Junmyeon had Jiaheng sit down in their tiny living room, and then he went upstairs to check on his mother.

“Is everything alright?” Junmyeon asked kindly. “Do you want water? Tea?”

“I’m alright, thank you dear.” His mother smiled at him. “Did someone come in with you just now?”

“A friend,” Junmyeon said dismissively. “Just call out if you need me.”

“Alright.” Junmyeon’s mother turned her head to gaze out of her window, and Junmyeon left the room.

“Would you like a glass of water?” he asked Jiaheng.

“Please,” Jiaheng said gratefully. Junmyeon went to the kitchen and sighed quietly to himself. Jiaheng had been careless, brash, and borderline rude on their first meeting. Maybe he did still have some manners left in him.

Junmyeon went back and handed Jiaheng the glass of water. He sat down across from him and stared down at his fingers. He’d invited Jiaheng into his home, but now he had nothing to say.

“So.” Jiaheng set his cup down on the table. “Tell me about yourself. Do you work?”

“I was a school teacher,” Junmyeon said after a moment.

“Wow!” Jiaheng smiled at him. “You’re so young to be teaching.”

“I’m not that young.” Junmyeon blinked. His co-teacher, Chanyeol, was actually even younger than him.

“I guess I’m just used to being taught by old fogies,” Jiaheng laughed. “Where do you teach?”

“I taught in Stardust, at a small academy for women. You probably wouldn’t know it.”

“Hm.” Jiaheng looked thoughtful. “I actually went to school in Stardust myself, but I don’t recall the place.”

“I think it’s new. It hadn’t been around long by the time I applied for the job.”

There was an awkward silence. Junmyeon was silently regretting inviting Jiaheng into his home—he didn’t want anything to do with the man anyways. Why had he let him in?

“You keep speaking in the past tense. Why did you stop teaching?”

Junmyeon looked at Jiaheng. “Personal reasons,” he said evenly.

Jiaheng looked slightly disappointed. “I see,” he said.

At that moment, Junmyeon heard his father’s familiar, heavy footsteps walking towards the house. Junmyeon’s eyes widened slightly—his father was home far too early than normal. Had something happened?

Junmyeon got to his feet as the front door open, and his father entered the house. His father smiled warmly when he saw Junmyeon, but he paused when he saw Jiaheng.

“Who is this?” he asked gruffly.

Junmyeon opened his mouth to respond, but Jiaheng beat him to it. “I’m Jiaheng, son of the Duke of the Forest of Fireflies.” Jiaheng got to his feet and stretched out his hand. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Hm.” Junmyeon’s father didn’t accept his hand. “I thought you were Yifan for a moment.”

“Yifan?” Jiaheng echoed.

Junmyeon rushed to rescue the situation. “Yifan is a friend of mine, Jiaheng. You look very similar,” he agreed, stepping out from behind the table.

“The son of the Duke?” Junmyeon’s father eyed Jiaheng up and down. “You have your father’s face, that’s for certain.”

Jiaheng lowered his hand uncertainly. “Thank you?”

Junmyeon struggled not to laugh. His father was good at throwing people off balance, and it was amusing to see Jiaheng without his usual flair.

“Hm.” Junmyeon’s father went up the stairs and Junmyeon smiled a little when Jiaheng turned to him with a bewildered look on his face.

“Don’t worry. He’s always like that,” Junmyeon said reassuringly. “It’s in his nature.”

“I…see.” Jiaheng slowly sat down again, casting a nervous glance up the stairs.

“We were talking about my job. Let’s talk about yours.” Junmyeon put his elbow up on the table and rested his chin on his palm. “What does the son of the Duke do?”

“Well, I’m mostly involved in diplomacy. My older brother is the one who’ll be taking our father’s place eventually.” Jiaheng took a sip of water. “I usually go around the villages and visit the people and talk to them about what the village needs. Then I report back to my family.”

“Really?” Junmyeon blinked. “How long have you been doing that for?”

“Nearly a year now.”

“I’ve never seen you, or any of the Duke’s men in the village before.” Junmyeon pursed his lips.

“Well, this village has always been doing well. It’s prosperous and peaceful. Besides, you’re close enough to the Duke’s palace that if anything went wrong, he’d be able to respond within days. I tend to visit the towns further away, or across the forest.” Jiaheng tilted his head to the side. “All of my father’s constituents are valued.”

“Right.” Junmyeon took a sip of his water. To be fair, Jiaheng was right—his village had very few problems.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Have you told your father about me?” Jiaheng suddenly asked.

“Obviously not,” Junmyeon said, slightly sharply. Jiaheng wasn’t going to bring up his ridiculous proposal again, was he? “He had no idea who you were.”

“Why didn’t you tell him about me?”

Junmyeon rolled his eyes. “You may be used to getting your way, but I’m not an object you can point your finger at and buy.” The resentment and outrage Junmyeon had felt towards Jiaheng came bubbling back up to the surface. “I don’t tell my father about every man or woman that catcalls me in the street.”

Jiaheng had the nerve to look shocked. “You would group me with those…those kind of vulgarities?”

“You have the same reasoning that they do.” Junmyeon gave Jiaheng a hard stare. “Why shouldn’t I group you with them? Because you’re rich?”

Jiaheng opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I…I don’t know what to say. I don’t see you as an object,” he said at last.

“Really?” Junmyeon folded his arms.

“Really,” Jiaheng persisted. “I wanted to see you today to…to try and change that impression. I want to get to know more about you.”

Junmyeon sighed. “Sure.”

Junmyeon’s father came stomping back down the stairs, and Jiaheng went silent.

“Is everything alright?” Junmyeon’s father stared at the two of them.

“Yes.” Junmyeon got to his feet, and Jiaheng hesitantly followed suit. “Jiaheng was just going. Weren’t you?”

Jiaheng nodded somewhat helplessly and allowed Junmyeon to guide him out of the house. They walked over to where Jiaheng’s horse was tied, and Junmyeon stepped back.

“What can I do to convince you that I care about you?” Jiaheng asked quietly.

Junmyeon considered him for a moment. It was true, Junmyeon still felt resentful and embarrassed because of Jiaheng’s proposal. But today, Jiaheng had shown him a little more depth of character, and maybe Junmyeon should give him a chance.

“I think you’re interesting,” Junmyeon said at last. “How about we make a deal. We can try and be friends, but in return, you have to promise not to bring up your marriage proposal.”

“Not ever?” Jiaheng asked.

Junmyeon hesitated. “Not for at least six months,” Junmyeon said finally. That would give him enough time to judge Jiaheng’s character. Assuming that Jiaheng ever came back to the village—maybe he would be truly discouraged by Junmyeon’s cold treatment.

“I think I can manage that.” Jiaheng perked up a little bit. “You won’t regret this.” He untied his horse from the tree, and climbed onto her back.

Junmyeon smiled slightly at that. “Okay,” was all he said. Jiaheng rode off towards the village, and Junmyeon went back into the house.

“How do you meet Jiaheng?” Junmyeon’s father asked him.

“He was at the cemetery during the festival,” Junmyeon said quietly.

“Hm.” Junmyeon’s father looked thoughtful. “His father is a good man.”

“Is he?” Junmyeon looked at his father curiously. They never discussed the Duke too often.

“Yes. There are often accidents with the wood-cutters during labor, or the magic in the forest. The Duke takes good care of those who get hurt.” Junmyeon’s father had a distant look in his eyes.

“I see.” Junmyeon smiled. “That’s good.”

He set to work cooking dinner in the kitchen while his father went out to sit on the porch. Junmyeon hummed thoughtfully as he thought about Jiaheng, but then his thoughts drifted to Yifan. His heart ached a little, and Junmyeon sighed softly. He could only hope that Yifan was alright.

 

 

 

 

 

Junmyeon was pleasantly surprised that Jiaheng had kept coming back. It had been five months since their deal, and Jiaheng kept popping up in the village every few days to say hello and spend some time with him. Junmyeon found himself warming up to the young nobleman—it was true, Jiaheng was more than used to having his way, but he truly had a good heart. He genuinely cared for everyone, and before he knew it, Junmyeon had grown genuinely fond of the other man.

However, Junmyeon had also become tenser and sadder over the past few months. Yifan was still missing. After the first month, Junmyeon had worked up the courage to ask Yifan’s regular employer about what had happened to the young man, but the farmer had just shook his head and told him that Yifan had quit the job several weeks before. He hadn’t said where he was going, what he would be doing—nothing. He’d vanished without a trace.

Junmyeon had hidden by himself in the fields and cried all day when he learned the news. He was frustrated, scared, and even a little bit angry. Who did Yifan think he was, just leaving without a word? Junmyeon had been so hopeful that Yifan might care for him—that Yifan might even want to court him. How could he do this? But even though he was angry at Yifan, he couldn’t help but quietly hope that someday, Yifan would return.

Today, though, Junmyeon wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of Yifan for once. Junmyeon had gone back to Stardust village to inquire about his old job. Understandably, the headmaster of the academy told him that if he couldn’t return by the end of the month, then they would hire someone else. Junmyeon felt a bit optimistic, at that though. His mother’s health had been improving over the months, and Junmyeon felt that soon, there wouldn’t be a need to stay at home with her every day.

Junmyeon returned home that night humming softly to himself. He would ask his parents how they would feel about him returning to work tonight.

However, when he entered the house, Doctor Kim was sitting at the table with a grave look on his face.

“Doctor Kim!” Junmyeon blinked in surprise. “I…I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Junmyeon’s father came down the stairs when he heard Junmyeon’s voice. “Junmyeon,” he said gravely. “Come, sit at the table.”

Junmyeon slowly walked forward and sat down. “Is something wrong?” he asked, struggling to control his voice. “What’s going on?”

“It’s your mother,” Doctor Kim said gently.

“I thought she was getting better,” Junmyeon said immediately. “She’s been walking around and…and her cough’s been getting better!”

“We also thought she was getting better,” Doctor Kim said quietly. “But today, she collapsed. Luckily, your father was home when it happened.”

Junmyeon felt a pang of guilt. How could he have started thinking about his own future so quickly? He should’ve stayed home today to take care of his parents.

“She’s alright. As far as I can tell, her condition seems to be fine, but I’ve confined her to strict bed rest for the next week.” Doctor Kim looked troubled. “It’s unclear what the cause of her collapse was. I’m concerned that her progress might not be as far along as we thought.”

“But…” Junmyeon looked over at his father. “But…she was getting better,” he repeated weakly.

“There could be many reasons for her collapse,” Doctor Kim said gently. “It could have been a lack of nutrition, or dehydration. But it could also be something more serious.”

Junmyeon felt numb, and he stared blankly at Doctor Kim. He couldn’t come up with anything to say.

Doctor Kim sighed heavily and got to his feet. “I’ll see myself out,” he said softly. “Good night.”

Junmyeon continued staring at the table, his thoughts vague. Why did everything bad have to happen all at once?

Junmyeon flinched when he felt his father’s warm hand settle on the top of his head.

“Junmyeonnie,” his father said gently. “Are you okay?”

Junmyeon felt his eyes well up with tears. His father rarely every used his childhood nickname anymore. “I’m fine.” He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m…fine.”

His father gently patted his head, and then withdrew his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you to react so strongly,” he said somewhat gruffly. “I’m sorry.”

Junmyeon shook his head, his throat closing up. “I’ll feel better after some sleep,” he said quietly. “I’m going to bed.”

His father watched him go up the stairs. Junmyeon poked his head into his mother’s room, and his heart ached. She was asleep, her breathing gentle and even. Her wispy black hair had been tied into a neat a braid by his father, but a few stray wisps were scattered across the pillow. She looked so small, and so fragile. Junmyeon’s heart ached for the days when he remembered her chasing him around the house and laughing, nearly a year ago. How had they come this far?

He quietly closed the door and went to his room. He pulled out the maple-leaf patterned scarf from his trunk and buried his face in the soft cloth.

Eventually, he crawled onto the bed, bringing the scarf with him. He fell asleep like that, curled up on his side with his cheek nestled against the beautiful red leaves.

The next day, Junmyeon woke up and stared blankly at the wall. He thought he might feel better after getting some sleep, but he still felt numb. He slowly started getting ready for the day, turning every so often to look at the scarf lying on his bed.

Junmyeon had thought that he was getting his longing for Yifan under control, but sometimes, he couldn’t help it. He felt embarrassed and ashamed of himself—why did he keep mooning over Yifan? He’d been gone for months.

After some hesitation, Junmyeon picked up the scarf and wrapped it around his neck. He wasn’t planning on going out today, as he was supposed to stay home and care for his mother, but it was a little chilly in the house. He could use the extra warmth.

The day passed uneventfully. Junmyeon’s mother was bored and restless, insisting that she could walk around and take care of herself, but Junmyeon gently reminded her of Doctor Kim’s instructions. Maybe he looked particularly tired, but for some reason, his mother didn’t protest too much. He cooked for both of them, and read to her from a novel until she fell asleep in the early evening.

Junmyeon went downstairs and began reheating some food for his father. He would be back soon. As Junmyeon puttered around the kitchen, he paused when he heard a knock on the door.

Junmyeon blinked. He recognized that knock—that was definitely Jiaheng at the door. But Jiaheng had told him that he wouldn’t be back from his travels for at least another three days. What was he doing back in town so early?

Junmyeon went to the door, and smiled when he saw Jiaheng. “Hi,” Junmyeon said warmly. “I was just about to eat dinner. Do you want to come in?”

To his surprise, Jiaheng seemed nervous. He shifted from one foot to the other, and Junmyeon raised an eyebrow when he saw that Jiaheng was holding something behind his back. “Is everything alright?”

Jiaheng took a deep breath. “Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon waited patiently. The last time he’d seen Jiaheng this nervous was the first time Jiaheng had come to his house, all those months ago.

Jiaheng let out a sharp breath and then gathered himself up. He brought his arms from behind his back, and his hands was a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Junmyeon felt an impending sense of déjà vu. “Jiaheng,” Junmyeon said suddenly, a little afraid of what would happen next.

“Let me finish,” Jiaheng said firmly.

Junmyeon bit his lip and stayed silent.

“It’s been six months now,” Jiaheng continued. “In the time we’ve gotten to know each other, I’ve found so many things that I adore about you, Junmyeon. Will you marry me?”

Junmyeon sighed quietly. “Oh, Jiaheng,” he said softly, regretfully. He reached out to accept the flowers. “I…I don’t know. I need some time to think.”

Jiaheng let him take the flowers.

“Have you spoken to my parents about this?” Junmyeon asked as he placed the flowers in a vase. He eyed the arrangement—if Jiaheng had gotten them from Irene, then Irene had really done a beautiful job.

Jiaheng took a step into the house, the wooden floor creaking loudly beneath his boots. “I have,” Jiaheng said softly.

“And they approved?” Junmyeon turned around to face him.

Jiaheng nodded. “I was a little scared your father was going to kill me,” Jiaheng chuckled, “but he gave his approval. You can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“What about _your_ parents?” Junmyeon asked a little desperately. “Don’t nobles stick together? They don’t mind that I’m a commoner?”

“They don’t mind at all,” Jiaheng said reassuringly. “They know that I’ve been planning on proposing to you.”

“I see.” Junmyeon tugged at his scarf nervously. He didn’t know what to do. “Jiaheng, I…I need some time to think.”

Jiaheng nodded. “I understand,” he said gently. “I won’t be back around for another week. Will that be enough time?”

Junmyeon nodded slowly. “Yes. Thank you,” he said softly.

Jiaheng paused, and then pointed at Junmyeon’s scarf. “That scarf. You were wearing it on the very first day we met, weren’t you?”

Junmyeon blinked. “Was I?” He’d worn the scarf quite frequently after Yifan gave it to him.

“You were.” Jiaheng smiled, and Junmyeon blushed. “It looks beautiful on you.”

“Thanks.” Junmyeon fought the urge to pull the scarf up to hide his blush. Jiaheng went out the door and waved goodnight. Junmyeon watched him go from the window, not moving until Jiaheng had vanished on his mare into the night.

Junmyeon went back to the kitchen, his mind blank. His father came home, ate dinner and went upstairs to talk to his mother. Junmyeon heard them murmuring in low voices as he passed by the room, but paid it no mind. He fell into bed, exhausted. Things were moving so quickly, and he _still_ hadn’t had time to bring up the topic of his job to his parents. What should he do?

Junmyeon stroked the scarf softly. Should he just forget about Yifan? Jiaheng was here for him now. Yifan had been gone for months.

But what if Yifan came back? Junmyeon closed his eyes and whimpered low in his throat. It was all too confusing. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, slipping away into dreams of running through dark, shadowy forests calling out for Yifan, only for Yifan’s name to echo unendingly through the hills.

The next night, Junmyeon’s parents sat him down in the living room. Junmyeon’s mother had been given leave to get up and about, but Doctor Kim had warned her to be extremely careful.

“Junmyeon,” Junmyeon’s father said quietly. “I’m told that Jiaheng paid you a visit last night.”

Junmyeon blinked, and then looked over at his mother, who gave him a sheepish smile. “I was awake when he came in,” she admitted.

“Oh.” Junmyeon narrowed his eyes warily. “So…you heard everything.”

“Yes.” Junmyeon’s mother nodded.

“And he really asked for your permission?” Junmyeon asked, a little disbelieving. It was true that Jiaheng had met his mother a few times, but Junmyeon found it a little hard to believe that Jiaheng would have the nerve to visit his parents alone. Jiaheng was downright terrified of his father.

“He did,” Junmyeon’s father affirmed.

“And you gave it to him?”

“Are you surprised?” his father asked slowly. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Because…” Junmyeon hesitated. “Well, I thought you didn’t really like him that much.”

“Well, you seem to like him,” his father said reasonably.

Junmyeon snorted, and avoided eye contact with both of his parents. “You think I should say yes,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Junmyeon’s mother said simply. “He cares about you. You seem to care about him. Also, he’s wealthy. He can provide for you and keep you comfortable and happy.”

“Is that what you thought about when you married Dad?” Junmyeon raised his eyes to look at his mother.

To his surprise, his mother laughed softly. “To be fair, those weren’t the first things I thought of.”

Junmyeon snorted. He could imagine that—being a woodsman was a less than glamorous job, with danger at every turn, and long hours.

“But it’s something important to think about,” Junmyeon’s mother said gently. “Believe it or not, there were actually several young men vying for my hand when I was young. I did have to consider the future.”

Junmyeon nodded slowly. “You have a point.” There was silence for a few moments.

“Do you not want to accept him?” Junmyeon’s father asked at last.

Junmyeon flinched. “I…”

“What is it?” Junmyeon’s mother reached out to hold his hand. “Don’t be afraid to tell us,” she said gently.

“You’ll think I’m being stupid,” Junmyeon whispered, his eyes filling with tears. He reached up with his free hand to dash them away. He hadn’t really expected to tear up, even after all this time.

“What is it?” Junmyeon’s father asked, in a much gentler tone. When Junmyeon looked at him, he felt his heart break a little at the concern on his father’s face. “Has Jiaheng mistreated you? Has he hurt you?”

“No, no!” Junmyeon said quickly. “It doesn’t really have anything to do with Jiaheng.”

Junmyeon’s father looked relieved. “What is it then?”

Junmyeon took a deep breath, and his mother squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Yifan,” Junmyeon whispered at last.

His parents gave each other a knowing look, and Junmyeon suddenly realized that they’d both known how he’d felt about Yifan all along.

“You must think it’s silly,” Junmyeon said softly. “Yifan has been gone for months.”

Junmyeon’s mother sighed and patted his hand. “It’s hard to forget your first love,” she said gently.

“But it’s also important to see what the reality is,” Yifan’s father said quietly. “Like you said, Yifan has been gone for months.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon said quietly. “You’re right.”

“Do you not care for Jiaheng?” Junmyeon’s mother asked.

If he was being honest with himself, Junmyeon had been warming up to Jiaheng for a while now. Maybe hanging on to thoughts of Yifan was only holding him back. “I don’t know,” Junmyeon said quietly. “But I think…I could.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Junmyeon’s father stood up from the table. “Ultimately, the decision is yours, Junmyeon. We just wanted to let you know that if you did want to accept Jiaheng, then we would support it.”

Junmyeon’s mother slowly rose to her feet, and Junmyeon and his father carefully followed her up the stairs, their eyes focused on making sure she didn’t miss a step. Junmyeon left as his father helped his mother get ready for bed, and he went back to his room. He stared at the white scarf with the red leaves lying innocently on his bed. Then, he slowly picked it up, folded it into a neat square, and placed it at the bottom of his trunk.

He lay down on his bed and stared at the wall, waiting for sleep to come. He had no dreams that night.

 

 

 

 

 

A few days later, Junmyeon was pacing outside the house as night fell. His father had taken his mother to go visit some of their old school friends overnight, and they wouldn’t be back until the next day. Junmyeon had nervously blurted out that Jiaheng would probably be back tonight, but his parents had just winked at him and left him alone.

What were they thinking, letting Jiaheng come to see him when he was alone? Wasn’t that wildly inappropriate? But as Junmyeon paced back and forth, his hands trembling slightly, he felt a little grateful. At least they wouldn’t be around to see how awkward he would be.

Junmyeon heard the sound of galloping hooves in the distant, and he ducked back into the house, his palms sweating slightly. It might be Jiaheng, but it might be just another rider passing through the evening.

Junmyeon saw a familiar mare come into view, and he watched as Jiaheng dismounted, tied his mare to a tree, and started walking towards the house. Jiaheng also looked quite nervous, and Junmyeon pressed his lips together as he hid behind the curtains.

Jiaheng disappeared from view as he went up to the door, and Junmyeon swallowed harshly when he heard the knocks on his door. He took a deep breath, and went to open it.

“Junmyeon!” Jiaheng smiled, so openly happy to see him, and Junmyeon smiled back.

“Hi.” Junmyeon stepped back. “Do you want to come in?”

“Please,” Jiaheng said gratefully. “It’s been a long trip.” He stepped inside, and Junmyeon closed the door behind him.

“Have you eaten yet?” Junmyeon brushed past Jiaheng to pour him a glass of water, which Jiaheng accepted gratefully.

“I’m fine with water.” Jiaheng gulped the glass down and set it on the table, his face flushed. “To be honest, I just…I was nervous, coming back.”

“I was nervous for you to return,” Junmyeon admitted. “I…”

He gasped when Jiaheng suddenly came closer and grabbed his hands. “Junmyeon,” Jiaheng said softly.

Junmyeon looked down at their hands, and then shifted his palms so that his fingers could slot between Jiaheng’s. “Jiaheng,” he said softly.

“Have you thought about my proposal?” Jiaheng whispered, and Junmyeon shivered. Jiaheng was standing so close—but Junmyeon didn’t feel uncomfortable or scared.

Junmyeon nodded silently, and Jiaheng leaned in even closer. Junmyeon tilted his chin up to look at him, and he felt his face turn bright red when he saw how fondly Jiaheng was looking at him.

“And?” Jiaheng whispered.

Junmyeon wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, and Jiaheng’s eyes flickered downward. Junmyeon felt his face grow even hotter.

“I want to marry you,” Junmyeon whispered.

Jiaheng sighed and closed his eyes, his shoulders relaxing. “Really?”

“Really,” Junmyeon murmured, squeezing Jiaheng’s hands.

“I was so afraid you would say no,” Jiaheng mumbled, opening his eyes again. “I thought I hadn’t proved to you how much I care for you.”

Junmyeon shook his head. “I was too harsh on you when we first met.” Junmyeon smiled softly. “You’re really…really wonderful.”

It felt a little strange to be admitting his private thoughts after holding them in for so long. Junmyeon had thought long and hard over the past week on his feelings for Yifan versus his feelings for Jiaheng. It was true, that he loved Yifan. But as Junmyeon thought about it, he realized that Jiaheng had really taken over his life. He hadn’t been willing to admit how fond he’d grown of Jiaheng because he felt obligated to Yifan, when he didn’t owe Yifan anything. Yifan had abandoned him without a word, and Jiaheng wanted to marry him. He should let go of Yifan, and he should embrace his feelings for Jiaheng whole-heartedly.

“You’re too used to being mean to me.” Jiaheng pouted slightly. “Look how hard that was, for you to compliment me.”

“Shut up,” Junmyeon mumbled. “I’m doing my best here.”

Jiaheng laughed, and Junmyeon smiled. Jiaheng leaned in, and Junmyeon closed his eyes, still laughing slightly.

Junmyeon had had his fair share of kisses growing up, but there was something about Jiaheng that made him want _more_. Junmyeon pressed closer, and Jiaheng’s lips opened. Junmyeon wrapped his arms around Jiaheng’s shoulders, and Jiaheng made a small noise.

Suddenly, Junmyeon remembered where they were, and he pulled back. “We should stop,” he said breathlessly.

Jiaheng looked a little disappointed, but let go. “I’m so happy,” he said softly. “Junmyeon… _you_ make me so happy.”

Junmyeon flushed, but held Jiaheng’s gaze. “And you make me happy,” he said softly.

The moment was broken when a noisy growl erupted from Jiaheng’s stomach. Jiaheng’s arms automatically rose to cover his abdomen, and he flushed bright red.

Junmyeon burst into laughter. “What happened to ‘just water is fine’?” he asked teasingly, brushing past Jiaheng to get the food from the kitchen. “Help me bring these to the table.”

They settled down to dinner, and as Junmyeon gazed at his fiancé, he felt an overwhelming rush of fondness rise and crash in his heart.

 

 

 

 

_Six months later…_

Junmyeon stood by the window, gazing out at the lush, green fields surrounding the estate. Everything had moved so quickly to prepare for the wedding. A month after Jiaheng proposed, Junmyeon packed up his bags and moved to Jiaheng’s family home. To Junmyeon’s wary surprise, his parents and siblings had been largely welcoming, and it hadn’t taken long for Junmyeon to feel at home. Junmyeon’s mother had followed him two months later, and the Duke’s family doctor was tending to her. She was in much better health, and would return with his father back to the village after the wedding was over.

Even though he’d been living at the mansion for six months, Junmyeon still hadn’t fully unpacked his things. Everything had moved so quickly, and with all of the preparations for the wedding underway, Junmyeon hadn’t had much time to unpack. Now, though, it was two nights before the wedding. The night was quiet and peaceful. If Junmyeon squinted, he could see the flower garlands decorating the gates to the mansion at the front, and he could clearly see the large group of horses and carriages starting to amass near the stables.

Junmyeon smiled slightly at that. He hadn’t had very many guests to invite to the wedding—Irene, his aunt and uncle, Chanyeol, the headmaster of the academy, a few childhood friends. On the other hand, Yifan’s family had gone all out, inviting relatives along with several nearby noble families. Junmyeon was excited to meet them all, but he was still a little wary. Sometimes, his status as a commoner became painfully evident when he was interacting with the servants, or with his parents-in-law. While Jiaheng’s family was kind, he wasn’t so sure of how their friends would treat him.

Junmyeon sighed and turned his gaze away from the grounds to his now-empty trunk. He’d nearly forgotten about it in the past few months, but it came back to him like a slap in the face. The red and white scarf lay limply, slightly crumpled from where it had gotten pushed around from all his other belongings. Junmyeon slowly picked it up, and held it in his hands.

He loved Jiaheng now, there was no doubt about it. But somehow, just like his mother had said, it was impossible to forget his first love.

Junmyeon sighed heavily and sat down on the windowsill. A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.” Junmyeon stared out down at the scarf, assuming one of the servants was knocking at the door.

“Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon shot to his feet, instinctively hiding the scarf behind his back. “Jiaheng!” He hissed as his fiancé slipped to the room and shut the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t come to see you?” Jiaheng walked forward, a slight smile on his face.

“You can’t just walk into my rooms,” Junmyeon scolded him in a hushed voice. “You can do that _after_ we get married.”

“You’re so traditional,” Jiaheng said fondly, and then bowed his head. “I’m sorry. There’s just—there’s something I wanted to talk about.” He raised his head again, and then noticed Junmyeon’s odd posture. “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

“It’s nothing.” Junmyeon’s hands tightened around the scarf. He was sitting at the window, and there was nowhere for him to go as Jiaheng came towards him.

“Show me,” Jiaheng said gently, holding out his hand.

Junmyeon looked at Jiaheng, and then sighed. He reluctantly brought the scarf out from behind his back and handed it over.

“This scarf!” Jiaheng smiled. “Why were you hiding it from me?”

“Well…” Junmyeon trailed off nervously. They hadn’t really talked about any of their past relationships. “Um. Do you know how I got this scarf?”

“Yeah,” Jiaheng said absently as he turned the scarf over in his hands.

“You do?” Junmyeon asked, startled. He had kept his feelings for Yifan so close to his heart, he didn’t ever remember telling Jiaheng about it. Maybe Jiaheng had heard the story from someone else? Jiaheng and Kyungsoo had become quite friendly, so maybe Kyungsoo had told him about it. “And…you’re okay with me keeping this?”

“Yeah of course.” Jiaheng smiled down at him. “I’m glad you kept it—oh.” Jiaheng’s smile suddenly dropped off of his face.

Junmyeon’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” he echoed. “Jiaheng. What’s going on?”

“That…that is actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Jiaheng took a deep breath. “I uh. Um.”

Junmyeon slowly shifted into a more comfortable sitting position. Jiaheng wasn’t normally this shy—something weird was going on.

“I do know how you got this scarf,” Jiaheng said slowly. “Yes. That’s a good starting point.”

“Did Kyungsoo tell you about it?” Junmyeon asked hesitantly.

“No.” Jiaheng swallowed harshly. “You see…uh, well. This is a lot harder to admit than I thought it would be.”

Junmyeon blinked. “What?” He reached out to pat Jiaheng’s hand. “It can’t be that bad.”

Jiaheng seemed a little steadied by Junmyeon’s touch, and he squared his shoulder. “I bought you this scarf!” Jiaheng said in a rush.

Junmyeon stared at him. “What?”

“I bought you this scarf,” Jiaheng repeated more confidently.

“No, you didn’t.” Junmyeon frowned. “Yifan bought me this scarf.”

“Junmyeonnie.” Jiaheng spoke gently, as if he were afraid of how Junmyeon would react. “I…I am Yifan.”

Junmyeon stared at him.

“I used to sneak out of the estate to visit the villages when I got too bored with my studies. I’d work as a farmhand or something to avoid suspicion, and then I’d return home every few days. Being Yifan was so…liberating. I started being him when I was maybe fourteen or fifteen?” Jiaheng’s eyes glazed over with nostalgia. “I used to stay pretty close to the academy at Stardust, and I loved going to the marketplace in your village. People were happy and kind. I didn’t meet you for a while, though. And then when I met you, I didn’t want to leave.”

Junmyeon opened his mouth and closed it, his thoughts running in circles. “You did leave though,” he said at last. “You…you vanished. Yifan was _missing_. For months.”

“Well, my job got more serious. I couldn’t come to the village as often as I used to,” Jiaheng admitted. “But I wanted to keep coming. I’d fallen for you, over the years, and I wanted you to know who I really was.”

“Oh my god.” Junmyeon brought his hand up to cover his mouth, which had started to tremble. “You couldn’t have told me this sooner?”

“I didn’t think you’d react this strongly. When I was Yifan, I thought you didn’t have any feelings for me.” Jiaheng looked concerned, and he reached out to hold Junmyeon’s hand. “And I knew I couldn’t keep pretending to be Yifan. If I wanted to court you, I was going to have to do it as myself.”

“You thought I didn’t like you?” Junmyeon asked, disbelieving. “Jiaheng…Jiaheng, I was in love with you. When he…no, when _you_ bought me that scarf, I thought you might actually want to court me. I thought you…I thought you might have loved me!”

Jiaheng looked down, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know I didn’t handle things as I should have.”

“I thought you abandoned me.” Tears dripped down Junmyeon’s teeth, and a lump formed in his throat. “I thought…I thought you’d been kidnapped, or killed or worse!”

“I’m sorry you worried about me.” Jiaheng reached out and pulled him into a hug, and Junmyeon let him, burying his face into Jiaheng’s shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon sobbed into Jiaheng’s chest as relief and anger welled up inside him. He was relieved that nothing bad had happened to Yifan, but he was also incredibly angry that Jiaheng had done this to him.

But Jiaheng had also acknowledged that he was wrong. Jiaheng wasn’t immaturely expecting Junmyeon to just accept everything and not be angry. He was trying to take responsibility for what he’d done.

Junmyeon slowly drew away from Jiaheng, still sniffling. He rubbed at his face, and fixed Jiaheng with his best disappointed glare. “I haven’t totally forgiven you yet,” he said sternly.

Jiaheng nodded slowly.

“But!” Junmyeon continued. “I still love you. And we’re still going to get married in two days.”

Jiaheng perked up a little bit at that. “Really?” he asked.

“Did you think I was going to cancel the wedding?” Junmyeon asked, smiling slightly. “It’s true, I was really sad when Yifan vanished, and you broke my heart. But…I still love you.”

“Junmyeon.” Jiaheng pulled him into another hug. “I love you so much.”

“Mm.” Junmyeon nestled into Jiaheng’s arms.

“Were you looking at the scarf because you missed Yifan?” Jiaheng asked quietly.

Junmyeon nodded silently, and Jiaheng hummed thoughtfully. “I can’t tell if I should be jealous or not.”

Junmyeon snorted. “You can’t be jealous of yourself, silly.”

Jiaheng sighed and quietly started stroking Junmyeon’s back. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but…I thought you would hate me. I could see that something was make you sad and tense over the months that you knew me as Jiaheng, and I’m sorry I caused that. I just…didn’t know what to do anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Junmyeon said gently. “You’ve told me the truth now. Besides, it would have been _way_ worse if you’d waited to tell me until after the wedding. You can trust me on that.”

Jiaheng snorted and relaxed a little, and Junmyeon knew that his reassurances were finally starting to get through to his fiancé.

There was a knock at the door, and they both froze. Junmyeon yanked himself out of Jiaheng’s arms, and Jiaheng quietly rushed to hide in Junmyeon’s closet.

“Yes?” Junmyeon called out, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. No matter how much Jiaheng made fun of him for being ‘traditional’, they both knew that if Jiaheng was caught in his room right now, there would be a huge scandal.

“I just wanted to check if you needed anything else before you retire for the night, Master Junmyeon,” a servant called out.

“No, thank you.” Junmyeon went to the door and opened it partway to smile at the servant. “Good night, Sehun.”

“Good night.” The servant bowed and left, and Junmyeon shut the door. Jiaheng came out of the closet.

“You should go,” Junmyeon said softly.

“Alright.” Jiaheng came to him and hugged him tightly. “I love you.”

Junmyeon stood on his toes and kissed him. “I love you too.” He smiled at Jiaheng. “I’ll see you in the morning.

Jiaheng tenderly stroked his cheek. “Rest well,” he whispered, and then quietly slipped out the door. Junmyeon let the door click shut, and then went back to the scarf.

So, Yifan and Jiaheng were one and the same. Jiaheng had given him the scarf, way back when. Jiaheng had loved him for so long.

Junmyeon brought the soft cloth to his cheek. He climbed into bed, and lay the scarf on the pillow. He nestled into the soft fabric, and that night, he dreamed of Jiaheng. They walked through a grand garden teeming with beautiful roses of all different colors and sizes. Junmyeon gazed at his husband, and saw the shadow of Yifan’s awkward, lanky demeanor under the surface of Jiaheng’s usual confidence. He smiled, and held onto Jiaheng’s hand tightly as they wound their way through the garden of dreams.

**_The End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> First off, HUGE THANK YOU TO THE MODS for being so wonderful and understanding! Also, thank you for the fun prompt! Unfortunately I didn't get to spend as much time as I wanted to, so Yifan's character is a little underdeveloped. Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoyed reading this!


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